


our backs tell stories

by 26stars



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgardian Refugees, Asgardians in Wakanda, Bisexual Badass Women, Dora Milaje - Freeform, F/F, Female Character of Color, Grief/Recovery, Infinity War/Endgame interim, Missing Scene, New Asgard, POV Character of Color, Queen Ramonda - Freeform, Wakanda, post-Snap pre-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:50:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22713247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/pseuds/26stars
Summary: In the wake of the Snap, the surviving Asgardian refugees are discovered and recieved in Wakanda. General Okoye oversees much of their care, including caring specifically for the people's chosen leader, a woman who calls herself Valkyrie. Two women warriors with pasts and baggage and a lot of pain slowly find a small way to share the load.Title from Rupi Kaur's poem 'women of color'Created for the Marvel Rarepair Bang 2020
Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie & Okoye (Marvel), Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Okoye (Marvel)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21
Collections: Marvel Rare Pair Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatthefoucault](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefoucault/gifts).



> Hi guys! Credit for this concept/prompt goes to whatthefoucault, who left this specific prompt: "This art happened because Tessa Thompson once said she’d like to see Okoye and Valkyrie team up. Why not teaming up with a warm cup of Asgardian glögg?"
> 
> Here is the[link](https://i.imgur.com/xTokuC1.jpg) to the art that inspired this fic!

In the beginning, it was difficult to wake up every day and not feel a sense of urgency about. To not swing her legs out of bed and have her feet land on pins and needles, anxiety that she was trained not to carry but was all the world was made of these days. Every morning, she knew people everywhere were also waking up hoping that the world-changing moment—the Snap, for those who knew what had happened—had in fact been only a plot twist in a horrid dream. The moment would last as long as they let it, until their feet carried them to the first place that revealed the truth. For some, it was the breakfast table, for others, their news source.

Some didn’t even need to move from their half-empty beds to be reminded.

Now that she had moved permanently into the palace grounds and no longer had to face the emptiness of her home she’d once shared with a husband, Okoye could suspend the moment until she picked up her Kimoyo bracelet to see the reports from her sisters, those who had kept watch at the royal quarters throughout the night.

“All is well with the queen,” the messages would say, and Okoye would brace herself for the truth as she slipped the bracelet over her hand. From the time she had begun her training until the day she watched the last one disappear to dust, Okoye had only known kings on Wakanda’s throne. It was far from the only thing that changed in the Snap, but it was still the strangest to resolve.

Donning her uniform and sharpening her weapons became the necessary rituals to pack the pain into its appropriate compartments before she left her room to attend to her duties. Piece by piece, she put on the life she had committed to, a vow more unbreakable than a marriage. By the time she walked out where anyone else could see her, she had all her armor in place, inside and out.

“The queen is still inside,” one of the two sisters flanking the door announces after saluting her General’s arrival. Okoye lowers her chin curtly before tapping her spear to signal the changing of the guard. The women move seamlessly into place, tap their spears and salute, and Okoye turns to lead the retiring women away. Before she gets far, however, the door to the royal chambers opens.

“General Okoye.”

All the Dora Milaje turn at once to salute the queen, and Okoye bows her head as she lowers her arms.

“My Queen.”

Ramonda has not dressed for the day yet, but she is no less regal in her simple linen shift and toga sheet with her gray locks hidden beneath a satin scarf.

“A word, please.”

Okoye moves forward automatically, striding between the guards and allowing the door to swing shut behind her.

The early morning sun sears through one side of the panoramic room, making Okoye wonder why the woman has not adjusted the shade of the glass. Ramonda’s breakfast tray sits on the small table between two chairs, but Okoye does not even consider taking the second seat as the queen sits down again.

“I expect that we will be hearing from the Americans again today.”

It is not a question, so Okoye only nods.

The queen has not eaten much of the food on her plate, but she only reaches for the hot morning drink again as Okoye waits for more.

“We have taken stock of the remaining food resources,” Ramonda says slowly. “Even before the Change, we had too much. Now, with the have-nots having even less…”

The queen is not looking at her general as she takes a slow sip of her drink—she is staring instead directly into the brightness of the sun.

“We are in a position to be generous,” she continues quietly. “I would be proud to see T’challa’s wishes continued in whatever ways are wise.”

Okoye bows her head. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Ramonda nods, her gaze still far away, but she doesn’t dismiss her either, so Okoye waits, watching carefully for anything the queen is trying to tell her without words. The past year has not been kind to anyone, but for this woman, it has been especially cruel. A mother who had already watched her son die—they all thought—once before. The queen had not been at Shuri’s side when the Snap occurred; she had been in the Council room, communicating with the other tribal leaders as the battle raged outside. Okoye knows which two of her sisters were standing guard over the queen that day, both disappearing to dust on the rug while Okoye watched her king do the same in a quiet forest clearing. Perhaps only the surviving Dora who had been standing guard over Shuri knows how that felt, watching your life’s purpose disappear into thin air.

But Okoye does not know how it feels to love a child of her own body, nor can she fathom how it feels to lose one. Ramonda has endured it more than her share now. Her husband, then her son, then her son again along with her daughter.

_How many times can one heart break?_

“Are you able to sleep at night, General?” the queen suddenly asks, finally lifting her gaze to meet Okoye’s.

This is not a test, it is an honest inquiry.

“Not as well as before, Your Majesty,” Okoye admits.

Ramonda nods, setting her cup back on the tray.

“I would like to think I would sleep better knowing we have done all the little we can.”

Okoye bows her head again, and the queen dismisses her quietly. Okoye retreats with a soldier’s stride, acknowledging her sisters with a nod as they salute her departure outside the heavy doors. On her way to her next inspection, she passes the empty throne room and the throne she swore to protect no matter who sat on it. With Ramonda’s concern for others and her attention to detail, Wakanda is in good hands, no matter the crisis it faces.

And yet, for the sake of a woman whose heart has been torn and wrung enough for ten lifetimes, Okoye cannot help but wish the mantle had gone to almost anyone else.

~

Natasha has always sent briefings ahead for the conference calls in order to make sure everyone is prepared and on-task, but the first thing they do that day is deviate from it in favor of Carol’s announcement.

“I found the Asgardians.”

Thor had mentioned this—the spacecraft full of the last survivors of his realm, attacked in Thanos’s second assault for a stone. There had been time for a few escape pods to deploy, and for whatever reason they had not been pursued in the aftermath. In the chaos of the following days, they had been forgotten until Thor asked for a scan to be put out, a beacon to call them to where he hoped they could find safety, with no home to return to.

“They weren’t in great shape,” Carol says, shaking her head. “Obviously the Snap wiped out half of them, so that was three extinction-level events in a week for that one group. I got them all onto one ship and helped to consolidate their fuel supply in it, and they’ve got a lock on Earth’s beacon and should be arriving in maybe two weeks’ time.”

“And just what are they gonna do when they get here?” the animal—Rocket—growls from the opposite hologram. “Shop for a starter home? Get hotels?”

“They’re refugees, Rocket,” Colonel Rhodes snaps, looking tired. “This planet has policies about people like this.”

“All right, got it,” the creature says, rolling his eyes. “We’ve got half the resources we used to—what’s a few more superhumans?”

“Wakanda will take care of them.”

Everyone—Carol, Rocket, Nebula, Natasha, and Rhodes—all look over at Okoye. She does not flinch.

“I thought you all had a policy against outsiders,” Carol says, quirking a brow.

_We did,_ Okoye thinks. _One that might or might not have saved our people from getting decimated in last year’s attack if we’d stuck to it._

“Do you expect them to be more warmly received elsewhere?” Okoye asks, though she already knows the answer. Thanos was the last intergalactic visitor this planet had—she has no doubt the international defenses would shoot an unknown spacecraft down if it attempted to fly anywhere else.

“Wakanda has sufficient land and resources. The queen made her wishes clear this morning. We will take care of them,” Okoye repeats.

Natasha nods, taking charge again.

“Great, thanks for volunteering. Carol, will you be in the ship’s area again anytime soon?”

“I probably can plan for that,” the woman says, tapping something into her suit’s gauntlet. “You just want me to make sure they get there in one piece?”

“Yeah, make sure they don’t land on Mars by mistake,” Natasha says, picking up the tablet with their agenda on it again. “General Okoye, do you have any other updates from Wakanda?”

When Okoye delivers the news to the queen later that evening, she seems surprised but not unhappy. This is something they can do, something they can control, and it’s good for all of them to be able to keep their hands busy. She calls the Council together that same night, and Okoye stands through the hours of discussion as plans are drawn up, tasks are organized and assigned…

She does not sleep any better that night. She does not wake up less anxious. But she does appreciate having a place to direct it—preparing a soft landing for a group of people who have already endured more than their share of the past months’ hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okoye and Valkyrie's first meeting(s)

True to Carol’s word, the ship arrives thirteen days later.

The craft is in a sad state, giving an appropriate preview of the state of its passengers. Carol’s last update had informed Okoye how many people, how many separate families to expect, and the numbers had been grim. Thor is at Okoye’s side to meet them, but he seems miles and miles away, perhaps mentally distancing himself from all that had happened the last time he was in Wakanda.

As the ship’s ramp lowers, the first person to emerge is a woman dressed in black battle armor. Her dark hair is braided straight back in several plaits that have been woven into a larger braid, and she has a sword strapped to one hip. Thor moves forward somewhat robotically and meets her in a cautious embrace, as if he half-expects the woman to point a knife at him instead. But even though her arms remain limp at her sides, she leans into him, and Okoye recognizes the fumbling efforts of two injured people still trying to comfort one another even while bleeding on each other’s clothes.

The people begin to trickle out behind the woman, and Thor eventually turns towards the queen and her company to make the introductions.

“People of Asgard,” he says in a language that sounds like Xhosa to Okoye’s ears but she knows is actually Allspeak, “this is Queen Ramonda of the nation of Wakanda. Your majesty, this is…” He is gesturing to the woman at his side, but he seems to falter, looking over at her helplessly.

“Valkyrie,” she answers for him, nodding at the queen. “Your Majesty. Thank you for receiving us.”

Introductions are made all around, and then the work begins. Those needing medical attention are taken immediately to the clinic set up in one part of the newly-constructed village. The queen leads the people on a tour through the rest of the area, and then other workers start organizing people into the available dwellings. It takes several hours before everyone is settled, and only then does the queen retire. A detachment of guards remains to make sure the village is safe inside and out and to assist with any remaining needs, but Okoye follows the queen to her transport back to the palace.

“Their needs are great,” the queen says as Okoye steers their plane into the sky.

She does not mean the physical ones.

~

After a few days of personally visiting the refugees to make sure they’re getting on all right, the queen feels comfortable enough to allow others to report the goings-on to her. She tasks Okoye with bringing their chosen representative to the palace for a meeting with the other Council members, in order to put a face on the situation before the other tribal elders and allow them to have their voice heard personally by the decisionmakers.

Okoye is a little surprised that it is the woman called Valkyrie and not Thor who is waiting for her on the edge of the refugee village at the appointed time.

Okoye has one fellow Dora with her as she disembarks to meet the woman. She is still wearing the dark armor from before, but the sword is gone. Her hair also has been washed, now lying in fresh, loose waves past her shoulders.

“Valkyrie,” Okoye says from memory as she and her sister approach. “So you are your people’s chosen speaker?”

“That’s me,” the woman says, hanging her hands casually from her hips. “And what do I call you?”

“You call me General,” Okoye says. She does not mean to be curt, she only means to make the boundaries clear.

The young woman hardly seems intimidated though.

“All right. Gold and Silver it is, then,” she says, obviously referring to the color of their armor pieces. “Shall we?”

Okoye turns on her heel and leads the woman up onto the aircraft, pointing her into a seat with her spear while Ayo climbs into the pilot’s seat. Valkyrie sits down with a casual posture, and Okoye takes the spot directly across from her while Ayo gets the plane airborne.

“So,” Valkyrie says, catching Okoye’s eye. “I know I’m new and haven’t seen much yet, but…do any women around here have hair?”

Okoye eyes the woman carefully, and she stares back, unintimidated. “The Dora Milaje keep their heads shaved to set themselves apart,” Okoye eventually answers. “And the queen’s hair remains beneath her headpiece when she is dressed formally.”

“And the Dora Milaje,” Valkyrie says which perfect pronunciation, her gaze flicking between Ayo and Okoye, “that’s all of you? Are you special forces or just bodyguards?”

“Both,” Okoye says simply, laying her spear across her lap rather than collapsing it. Not to intimidate—that so far seems impossible with this woman—but because a Dora must always be ready, especially with outsiders present. In the brief days of Kilmonger’s reign, she had never let go of her spear, even while sleeping.

At the palace, Valkyrie follows Okoye while Ayo fills in the back as they lead her to the Council chamber. The other tribal heads are already present, rising when the queen does to greet the woman.

“Valkyrie,” she says, “thank you for representing your people.”

Introductions are made, policy is explained, and the meeting goes ahead. Okoye stands in her position within the circle while the others sit, all listening and weighing in appropriately. Valkyrie seems impressed by the diplomacy in the room, remaining respectfully quiet unless she is addressed. Her posture remains straight, hinting at the training of either a noble or a soldier, something Okoye might ask her about if it ever became relevant.

When the meeting adjourns, the queen calls for Okoye to stay and then gives other Dora the direction to return Valkyrie to her village.

“What do we know of this woman?” the queen asks when they are alone.

Okoye thinks back to her past meetings with the surviving Avengers. “From Thor, we know she was not living on Asgard when it was attacked, but she was instrumental in providing a chance for the refugees to escape. From Carol, we know she was the one the survivors looked to for direction after they escaped Thanos. She had them on a vague course for Earth only because that was where Thor had last said they would go. She thought him dead until told otherwise.”

“And now? With him alive but away?”

“She seems to be the default leader, though it does not appear she sought the position. The people with her are weary. She is too, but in a different way.”

“Knowing her background would be helpful in judging her actions and motivations,” the queen says. “If she thinks like a queen, she is prioritizing stability for her people. If she thinks like a soldier, she is preparing for conflict. If she is a civilian, she may require more training in how to care effectively for a people.”

“Indeed,” Okoye agrees.

Ramonda meets her eyes with a knowing look.

“I look forward to hearing your next report.”

Okoye follows her from the Council chamber, fighting the urge to sigh.

~

Unsure of whether to treat this call as a formal visit or undercover investigation, Okoye eventually chooses to go alone but arrive in full uniform.

_Better to be ready for anything. Better be known in advance._

Valkyrie’s dwelling is at the edge of the village, on the side furthest from the nearby city. Cultures may vary but roles remain the same—a leader would have put themselves in the center, a protector would have put herself between her people and an unknown. Okoye withholds judgment on this observation.

Valkyrie looks surprised to see her when she opens the door, despite Okoye having mentioned her arrival time through the Kimoyo bracelet the woman had been given the day before.

“Two o’clock already?” the woman says, squinting into the sunlight. Her gaze is bleary and her hair is rumpled as though she’s just awoken. “Oh well, come in.”

Very few of the refugees had arrived with anything in the way of possessions, so Okoye knows that everything she sees in the main room of the woman’s house is not her own, including the modest blue linen dress that she’s wearing. Her host mumbles for Okoye to “take a seat wherever,” then goes to the kitchen area and fills a kettle from the sink before plopping it on a flame.

“I’d offer you tea, but you’ll have to wait a few minutes,” the woman says, scrubbing her hands down her face and yawning.

“That won’t be necessary,” Okoye says, thumbing the sensor to collapse her spear.

Valkyrie perks up immediately.

“Handy,” she says, watching as Okoye places the spear-now-baton beside her on the ottoman she’s taken for a seat. “Can I have a look?”

“Only Dora are allowed to touch a Dora’s spear.”

It’s a fact repeated like a catechism and honored by all Wakandans, but Okoye is aware of how curt it might sound to an outsider. Valkyrie only shrugs, leaning against the wall and folding her arms.

“Fair enough. So what can I do for you?”

Okoye had prepared in advance how to tease out the desired information, consulting with Nakia how to best approach the situation. For the sake of establishing trust, they had settled on transparency. Okoye is a bodyguard, so she at least knows how to screen for bullshit.

“My queen is curious about your background,” Okoye says. “If we are going to be working with you, we would like to be more aware of how you are looking at situations.”

“Sounds like a wise queen,” Valkyrie says with a tone that stands right on the line between casual and sarcastic. “And what exactly does she want to know?”

“For starters, what was your occupation before Asgard was attacked?”

The kettle begins to whistle, and Valkyrie turns to shut off the flame.

“Scrapper,” she says as she takes down two tin cups from a shelf and tips a splash of tea leaves into each. “And it wasn’t on Asgard. It was on a place called Sakaar. The landfill of the realms, as most knew it. I was one step up from a forager.”

“Foraging for resources?” Okoye clarifies as Valkyrie pours water into both cups.

“Sure.”

Valkyrie returns the kettle to the cooling burner and then walks a cup across the room to Okoye. She’s holding it by the body, but even the handle is scalding when Okoye touches it. She sets it quickly on the ground, but Valkyrie doesn’t seem to notice the heat as she picks up her own cup and remains standing.

“How did you become connected to Thor and return to the Asgardian people?”

“He invited me to come along. Guilted me into caring about the situation on Asgard again. And then I helped him and his friend and brother escape.”

“What was the situation?”

Valkyrie smirks into her cup as she takes a scalding sip without flinching. “His murderous sister. She’d already killed his friends and most of the people when taking control of Asgard. She’s the reason I’d stayed away ever since…”

The woman trails off, closing her eyes briefly. Okoye waits.

“You’re a soldier, yeah?” Valkyrie says as she opens her eyes again. Okoye nods, and she continues. “Well, you have to choose sometimes, don’t you? If the leader you swore to is no longer caring for his people and only for himself, you have to choose, right?”

“Yes,” Okoye answers, remembering all the ways she has chosen duty over desire.

“Well, after I saw my whole company—my sisters, the people I loved most—die at the command of a king who wasn’t brave enough to face his worst enemy himself, I decided I was done fighting cowards’ battles. So I went to Sakaar and never looked back, until Thor came along and made it matter again. He’d been through the same loss, but he still kept getting up. All I’d done up ‘til then was drink, make money for drinking, and try to forget.”

Okoye is quiet for a long moment, processing what seems to be the truth. “Your company…” she finally says, “that must have been a great loss.”

Valkyrie meets her eyes. “You all remind me a little of them. We were all women too, the best of them, sworn to the throne. You and I just came down on different sides of the same decision.”

Okoye tries not to let her surprise show, but Valkyrie still smirks.

“Yeah, I heard about Kilmonger. Heard about your ex. You’re not the only one who wants to know more about her new circle.”

Okoye offers what might be her first smile yet. “It was not an easy situation, but it was an easy decision.”

“Now what if they’d gotten all your fellow Dora killed first?”

 _The duty would be the same,_ Okoye almost answers automatically, but instead, Nakia’s voice interrupts.

_Do you serve your country or save your country?_

Valkyrie has a knowing look in her eye. “Changes things at least a little, doesn't it?”

Okoye does not respond, and Valkyrie eventually moves, setting her empty cup down and refilling it from the kettle.

“You know, if we were anywhere else, I would have offered you a much stronger drink. Tea is new for me, but I’m still trying to figure out its purpose.”

“What would you have offered me on Asgard?” Okoye says, allowing the topic to change.

Valkyrie picks up her cup again. “Glögg. But it will be a while before there’s any chance of making that here.”

“What do you think your people are missing?”

“Besides stability, their homeland, and all their dead loved ones? Oh, I’m sure they’re missing all their favorite foods and entertainments too.”

Okoye knows this is not a slap against her concern, just more words from hurting lips, like everyone else these days. She presses in anyway.

“Practically though, what foods do people favor? What clothes? What drinks?”

Valkyrie is looking away. “I don’t really remember anymore. But I’ll ask.”

Sensing that this is a safe place to leave their conversation for today, Okoye stands.

“Thank you for your time,” she says, offering the untouched cup of tea back to her host. “I will recount your words to the queen. I appreciate your honesty.”

Valkyrie avoids her eyes as she takes the cup and sets it aside, then follows Okoye to the door.

“If you are interested,” Okoye says suddenly, turning to face Valkyrie again before she opens the door. “I can give you permission to the training facilities for the Dora Milaje.”

Valkyrie cocks her head curiously. “Are you inviting me to join? Or just hoping I can burn some energy and not cause trouble while doing it?”

“It sounds like you would fit right in,” Okoye says. “It would be good for Wakandans to see more of Asgardians. And perhaps good for you to be in a place that feels a little more familiar.”

Valkyrie seems surprised by those words, though she shakes it off and opens the door, spilling light in.

“I’ll think about it, General,” she says. “Thanks for the offer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing for any of the MCU so feel free to let me know if I've bungled anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the [link](https://i.imgur.com/xTokuC1.jpg) to the art that inspired this fic!

If Okoye can point to one thing that changed everything, it was allowing Valkyrie into the training facilities.

Not unsupervised, of course. The first time Okoye sent another Dora to fetch the woman, the entire company apart from those currently shadowing the queen were present for the training session. Introductions were made, her presence was explained, and then Valkyrie moved without prompting to the sidelines to watch.

For nearly two hours, the woman remains in one place, watching the drills and direction and matches as Okoye put her soldiers through their usual group training exercises. Valkyrie’s arms are crossed, her expression betraying little more than active interest, though her eyes never stop moving, studying everything she sees.

When Okoye eventually dismisses her soldiers, Valkyrie finally moves, approaching Okoye with her arms still folded.

“Some of them are new.”

Surprised—though perhaps she shouldn’t be—Okoye nods.

“We had to train several new Dora very quickly after the Snap. Some are still getting their bearings.”

“They’re not doing half bad.”

Moving to the wall, Okoye leans her spear against it and then pulls two training spears from the rack. They are the same size, length, and weight of an actual Dora spear, but they are made of hard rubber and difficult to injure each other with.

Okoye tosses one to Valkyrie, who catches it easily. “So, how much did you learn?”

Valkyrie meets all of her moves with parries that seem relaxed, verging on lazy. Slipping back a few steps, she spins the spear a few times, getting familiar with its size and shape.

“You use anything besides spears?” she asks, falling back into a perfect stance with the spear held correctly over her arm.

Okoye mirrors the posture. “Never need to.”

Their spar lasts for a few minutes, until Okoye is out of breath and aching from a handful of taps with different parts of the training spear against various parts of her body. Valkyrie appears completely unphased, which is slightly frustrating.

“It doesn’t seem like there’s much I can teach you,” she says, falling back into an easy stance and lowering her spear. “But would you be interested in training with us anyway?”

Valkyrie seems surprised by the offer.

“What would your Dora say?”

“I’m the General. They wouldn’t say anything.”

After that, Valkyrie arrives daily for the sessions, even the ones with the smaller companies of soldiers. She keeps to herself at first, taking up her training spear and adding herself into a space behind the other women, silently drilling with the Dora as Okoye puts them through their usual training. When it comes time for individual demonstration, Okoye never has any corrections to make, and yet Valkyrie never seems terribly proud of herself. When it comes time to spar, she holds her own easily, never making a move to do more than knock her opponent away or trip them into a vulnerable position and end the match.

“You’re holding back,” Okoye observes as they walk back to the village after the fourth session Valkyrie has attended.

“I’m Asgardian,” Valkyrie reminds her unnecessarily. “If I don’t hold back, I could injure them.”

“I appreciate your concern, but my women need to be ready for anything,” Okoye says, remembering the aliens and other creatures she has battled in the past year.

“If you want to make it more fair, send a few against me at once. It will help them practice teamwork. And maybe actually give me a workout.”

They try this out the next day, and while dodging four spears at once, Valkyrie cracks the first real smile Okoye has seen on her.

One evening when there is nothing scheduled, Okoye goes to the training facilities alone to wear herself out in the hope of some better sleep that night. Inside, she finds Valkyrie racing through the obstacle course, a space along the side of the long room that uses Shuri’s sand table technology to create an ever-changing landscape for the runner to cross. Valkyrie is not carrying a training spear this time—she has the sword that Okoye had seen on her hip when she’d arrived. Pass after pass, she races through the space, dodging, rolling, leaping, and occasionally swinging with her sword against the temporarily-solid shapes. At the end of the course, she pauses, visibly out of breath for the first time that Okoye’s witnessed.

“Enjoying the show?” she calls before charging in again. And, as the woman lunges and flips and slides through the air with the speed and accuracy of a cheetah, Okoye is not ashamed to admit that she is, in fact, very much enjoying it.

When Valkyrie finally stops for a rest, Okoye approaches her and offers her a bottle of water.

“I like that thing—it’s a good challenge,” Valkyrie says, pointing with her sword at the now-immobile obstacle course.

The blade hangs towards the ground as she takes a drink, and Okoye studies it. The hilt is silver, but the slightly scalloped blade is bright green.

“It’s called a Dragon Fang,” Valkyrie says, still catching her breath.

“May I have a look?”

Valkyrie lowers the bottle and smirks. “If I can hold your spear.”

Okoye raises an eyebrow, and Valkyrie holds out her sword. For the first time, Okoye notices a brown tattoo along the inside of her forearm, partially hidden beneath her gauntlet.

“Anytime,” Valkyrie says, wiggling it invitingly.

Okoye shakes her head. “Not going to happen.”

Valkyrie lowers her sword, seeming unsurprised. “What does a woman have to do to be a Dora anyway?”

“Two years of training usually, though we’ve had to make exceptions this year, since the Snap. She has to leave her tribe and live within the capitol. In years past, she also was accepting the possibility of being chosen as the next queen.”

“In a democratic way? Or in a popularity contest way?”

“The king would choose the woman he desired. Whether it was for her skill, her personality, or her appearance certainly depended on the king. But that is not a tradition we continue nowadays.”

“And your current queen? Was she a Dora once?”

“Once a Dora, always a Dora,” Okoye says.

Valkyrie nods, now looking away.

“What was _your_ company called?” Okoye asks. “Your sisters?”

Valkyrie exhales, caps the bottle, and sets it on the ground. Okoye hears the half-muttered answer as the woman turns away, striding back to the obstacle course.

“They were called the Valkyrie.”

Their paths don’t cross alone again for a while.

~

A few weeks later at a Council meeting, the Asgardian has an announcement.

“With your permission I’d like to borrow an aircraft.”

The people had rested, and now they are ready to look for a more permanent home.

“There have been several requests for a place in the northern lands. Our people have a past connection there—it’s one of the few places of Midgard that most of our people know.”

“A place where you were once treated like gods,” a tribal leader mutters, silenced with a sharp look from the queen.

Valkyrie doesn’t deny it.

“Yes, but we have no intention of joining a human community beyond trade and commerce. We are ready to build something with our own hands. It would seem…we need to.”

Heads turn towards the queen, and after a moment, she nods.

“The General will accompany you and your chosen companions on a scouting mission. You are welcome to the ship as long as you need it.”

Okoye opens her mouth to protest, insist that she must not be away from queen, country, and her Dora for so long, but the queen continues.

“We will been happy to host you all as long as you desire to stay here, Valkyrie. And we will send you with whatever supplies you need to begin your own community.”

Valkyrie bows her head. “Asgard isn’t a place. It’s a people,” she says, sounding as if she’s quoting someone else, “But a people need a place. A place of their own.”

Ramonda nods.

“We understand the sentiment. General, see to it that preparations are made for the scouting journey. Ayo will oversee the Dora until you return.”

Valkyrie brings a handful of chosen countrymen with her when they board the small plane the next day. She says little to Okoye directly as the general shuttles them from place to place for two days, conversing instead continually with her people. Her companions have lots of ideas and responses to the sights, and Okoye watches Valkyrie mediating the discussion, listening carefully, and taking notes using the Kimoyo bracelet. They scout a hilltop, an island, a forested valley, and a rocky coast before Valkyrie directs Okoye to the arranged meeting with the local government. When that is over, Valkyrie directs the ship back to Wakanda, though she doesn’t say whether anything has been decided.

On the journey back, they fly through the night under stars Okoye knows well. She wonders if Valkyrie has gotten used to the sight of them yet.

They return to Wakanda, and in the following days, Valkyrie does not come to train with the Dora. It comes as no surprise when she makes her announcement at the next meeting.

“We have decided on the place and are ready to begin building.”

Construction begins, and Okoye is sent with several Wakandans to join the Asgardians as they begin work on the new community. Plans have been drawn up, supplies acquired, and all that is left is the work.

“Your Majesty, I am not sure how long this project will take. I do not feel it wise to be away from you or the Dora Milaje for so long,” Okoye insists to the queen through her Kimoyo bracelet that evening.

“You’re exactly where I need you to be,” Ramonda says with a patient nod. “Valkyrie and her people trust you, as do I. You are the best suited Wakandan to help these two groups work together.”

Temporary structures have been erected, one for the men and one for the women. Cots and mats are spread out, and Okoye is sitting on her mat contemplating how much of her armor she will take off when Valkyrie suddenly casts down her jacket on the cot beside her.

“Thanks for coming, General,” she says as she kicks off her boots and lies down, throwing a blanket over herself.

“Okoye,” she corrects, and Valkyrie raises her head, looking at her quizzically. Okoye meets her gaze.

“I’m not leading soldiers here. You don’t have to call me General.”

Valkyrie smiles a little, then lies back down beneath her blanket.

“Goodnight Okoye.”

“Goodnight, Valkyrie.”

A little while after the lights go out, Okoye is still lying awake when she hears a soft whisper beside her.

“Okoye?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Brunnhilde.”

~

The day eventually comes when everything is ready and it’s time for a larger craft to ferry the Asgardians to their new home. Ramonda and several of the Dora accompany the fleet this time, and once the community has been safely moved into their new home, the queen says goodbye with appropriate ceremony. The Asgardians emerge from their new dwelling in what remains of their finest clothes, and Valkyrie appears this time dressed in a light gray and gold suit of armor with a blue cape, her sword on her hip. The symbol on her cape is the same as the one tattooed on her arm.

Gifts are exchanged, hands are shaken, gratitude is expressed, and Okoye turns out of habit to accompany the queen as she re-boards her ship after the final farewell.

“You have a moment,” Ramonda says as they climb the ramp, catching Okoye’s eye. “Don’t miss your chance.”

Brow furrowing, Okoye stops, drawing to the side while the queen and Dora continue up the ramp. Looking back out at the windswept patch of coast that the Asgardians have chosen, Okoye sees Valkyrie—Brunnhilde—still standing near the plane.

Wind flings drops of ocean against Okoye’s skin as she returns to the grassy earth and approaches the woman. Valkyrie has her arms folded, looking slightly unhappy, but then she moves, revealing one of her hands.

“I suppose I should give this back.” She holds out the Kimoyo bracelet.

Okoye shakes her head, holding up one hand. “That’s not necessary. It’s reliable communication, if you all need anything in the future.”

Brunnhilde shifts on her feet, smiling a little as she slips the bracelet back over one hand.

“I like the armor,” Okoye says, nodding to her apparel.

“Thanks. It’s nice to wear it again.”

Okoye takes a deep breath, then holds out her spear. Brunnhilde’s eyes widen, but she immediately holds out her hands, grinning as Okoye places the weapon in it.

“This spear was given to me by King T’chaka when I was appointed general of the Dora Milaje,” Okoye says as Brunnhilde eagerly inspects the weapon, admiring every part of it.

“It’s majestic,” the woman says, still smiling as she offers it back to Okoye.

“It’s yours.”

Brunnhilde falters, her smile flickering.

“I can’t accept this. I’m not a Dora.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you are.”

Brunnhilde looks down then, staring at the spear she’s still holding out between them.

“Won’t you need it?”

“I have others,” Okoye says honestly.

Brunnhilde finally lowers her arm, though her gaze does not rise.

“I’m afraid I’ve only got one sword…”

“This is a gift, not a trade,” Okoye says, stepping closer.

Brunnhilde finally looks up, moving the spear to plant it at her side in a perfect warrior’s posture.

“Thank you.” Her voice has gone slightly hoarse. “For everything.”

“It has been an honor to know you,” Okoye says, saluting her. “I know your people are in good hands.”

Brunnhilde offers her hand, and Okoye clasps it between her own.

“I hope we meet again.”

As the plane rises into the sky, Okoye looks down and sees Brunnhilde still standing below, raising her sword in a green flash of light, the spear glinting gold in her other hand.

~

Several months later, Okoye wakes up to slightly fewer pins and needles, ready for reality before she reaches for her Kimoyo bracelet, yet she still manages to be surprised.

“General…Okoye,” the first message says, and Okoye sits up sharply.

The holo-message is Brunnhilde, dressed now in a warm sweater with her hair braided straight back.

“I hope all is well in Wakanda. Sorry it’s been awhile, but we’ve been very busy here. Just wanted to tell you that we’re doing all right. We have a few shops running now, and a family has been able to restart a brewery. The first batch has just matured and, well…if you’re interested in coming by for some Asgardian glögg, you know where to find me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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